


Coddle

by artlesscommerce



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Manicures & Pedicures, Reminiscing, Spa Treatments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artlesscommerce/pseuds/artlesscommerce
Summary: The first Saturday of every month, Angel and Husk have a spa day.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66





	Coddle

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a fic......that isn't porn?!!?!??!?!!?!?

Angel groaned reluctantly as he stood up from the bathtub. It was warm and bubbly, and the last thing he wanted to do was get out. That is, until Husk entered the room.

"Quit whining," Husk reprimanded, grabbing a fancy Turkish towel from the closet. 

"I'm cold!" He took Husk's hand, leaning on him to climb out of their large tub. 

Husk wrapped the towel around his shoulders, rubbing the cloth against Angel's damp skin. Slowly, he dried Angel's torso and arms, before getting to his knees and towelling off Angel's legs.

"I'm cold again," Angel whined. It was the first Saturday of the month, their spa day, and Angel wanted to be pampered accordingly.

"Is anything ever good enough?" Husk lamented, retrieving Angel's pink robe - embroidered with a golden A - from its hook on the bathroom door. He slipped the fluffy cloth over Angel's slight frame. He gave Angel a gentle kiss on the back of the head.

Angel strode ahead, shutting the lid of the toilet so he could sit down. He stuck his freshly soaked feet out in front of him. 

"Get to it, gramps," he smirked, plucking his phone from the counter and opening whatever social media caught his eye.

"Someone's feeling bitchy tonight."

"And that someone is  _ you." _

Husk slapped one of Angel's feet. "Behave yourself," he chided, but none of their banter really meant anything. He retrieved his pedicure kit from under the sink, then knelt in front of Angel on the padded bathmat.

"Ready?"

Angel hummed affirmatively, ready to relax. 

Husk laid a towel under Angel's feet, took Angel's right foot in his hand, and got the pumice stone out from his kit.

He dipped the stone in a bowl of warm water before rubbing it in slow circles over Angel's heel. The rough skin was softened by the warm bath, and fell away easily as Husk exfoliated it. Once the heel was soft and smooth, Husk moved onto the toes, rubbing the dry flesh away from the sides.

"You wear heels too much," Husk muttered, shaking his head.

"I kinda have to. I'm a drag queen."

"You don't  _ have _ to."

"What, you don't like it?"

Husk pursed his lips. Angel had a good few inches on him without heels, but with them - especially the usual seven inch ones Angel liked - he towered over Husk completely. He hated to admit it, but he loved looking up at Angel from below.

"I do, but don't they hurt?"

"Sometimes."

Husk rinsed the stone and moved onto the next foot, removing all the dry skin that had toughened over the course of the month. 

Next, Husk grabbed a sharp little tool. He held Angel's foot up, close to his face, he used the dull end of the tool to gently push Angel's cuticles back along the nail beds. He then trimmed the excess skin away. 

Still holding Angel's foot, he soaked some cotton balls in acetone, removed last month's polish, and began trimming and filing the younger man's toenails.

Angel put his phone down in favor of watching Husk work. The old man was completely concentrated, carefully primping him like it was his job. 

When he and Husk had first started dating, neither of them expected it to be more than a passionate summer fling. Angel was an experienced queen who could make Husk forget his troubles, while Husk was a big, manly pillow for Angel to rest his head on. What future could a young partier and an old, alcoholic gambler possibly have?

Their summer fling was hot and passionate. Every night (and most days) they found each other in bed, sweaty and desperate, fucking their worries away. 

And then, fall came. And they started spending long, cold nights under the covers, holding on to each other for dear life. Surely by the time winter came, they'd be sick of each other, so they tried to make the most of their time together. 

And then winter came, and they never did get sick of each other. They made love in front of the Christmas tree with the fireplace roaring (much to Husk's weird roommate's dismay), they kissed on New Year's, and they were each other's Valentines. 

Suddenly it was summer again, and they each realized they were growing more and more rabid. It was about time to give up some things - "I'll go to AA if you get clean," "I'll throw my needles in the trash if you can go a whole month without buying a scratchoff" - until one day, so soon after this whole thing started, Husk was picking Angel up from rehab, with his own three-weeks-sober chip in his pocket.

It was sort of a whirlwind of sudden growth, and the abrupt lifestyle of cleanliness and sobriety and general good behavior left them without distractions. Angel, for his part, had been forced to face his demons. Somehow, he lived.

Husk, being an old man, had a remarkable capacity to bottle things up, but that was alright. These past couple of years were the first in  _ decades _ he'd spent sober, so he was allowed some bad habits. For now.

It had been three years since that first summer. Things were good, but Angel was starting to get antsy for more.

Husk was painting Angel's toenails pink (somewhere between pastel and bubblegum) when Angel said, "If you ever propose, I want a toe ring."

"Who said I'm gettin' you a ring?" Husk scoffed, but Angel knew he was full of shit.

"Wouldn't it be so chic to have engagement toe rings?"

"Not even a little bit. And I'm serious about that."

"It'd be better than the big old  _ nothin' _ I have now."

"Y'know, every time you mention proposing, I gotta put it off a couple more months so you won't expect it. So the more you bring it up, the longer it's gonna take."

Angel pointed his big toe, and traced some of the lines on Husk's face with it.

"You're a mean old man."

Husk grabbed his foot and blew a raspberry into the sole of it. 

"I know."

He kept painting, careful not to let his hands shake too bad. Angel kept watching, in comfortable silence.

When he was done, he washed his hands, and retrieved two sheet masks from the medicine cabinet. They always did their masks while they waited for Angel's nails to dry. Angel's mask was usually some sort of sparkly-dragonfruit-essential oil-unicorn-brightening-formula bullshit, while Husk's was a heavily medicated, intensive care retinol mask for his wrinkles.

Husk, as usual, rested his head in Angel's lap. Angel gabbed up a storm while he stroked the man's hair (thick and luxurious despite its grey appearance), and Husk dozed off until the timer sounded.

After rinsing their faces, Husk said, "Did you look at your nails?"

Angel peered down, expecting to see pure pink, but to his surprise, Husk had drawn a design. In thin gold lines, he'd inscribed two triangles, three dots, and three lines on each side.

"It's supposed to be a cat."

"I know! It looks great, babe, it's so cute!" He pulled Husk in for a kiss. The old man was smiling with pride. If you'd told him five years ago that he'd be  _ this _ excited about doing another man's pretty pink nails, he'd have called you crazy. Or broken a beer bottle across your face. 

Angel flitted to the bedroom, where Husk applied plenty of industrial strength lotion and cream to his feet, especially his heels.

Husk kissed the tip of Angel's toe, working his way up the man's lanky, thin body with light pecks. 

"I love you," he murmured, finally kissing the blonde's lips. Angel kissed him back passionately.

"I love you too. And I'm not just sayin' that."

Husk stroked Angel's cheek with his thumb. It was sweet for a moment, before Angel started giggling.

"What's funny?"

Angel turned his head away from Husk.

"Your hand smells like a foot."

"Bullshit, I washed it! I washed both hands!" He hovered it over Angel's face, who squealed and pushed him away.

"Fuck off, foot hands!"

"Y'know what else is contaminated? I kissed your disgusting little feet, remember? And I sure as hell didn't wash these  _ lips," _ Husk roared, pinning Angel down and kissing all over his face. Angel squealed and protested, but he didn't really mind. 

In fact, he kinda liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody comments anymore 😔 i thought u guys loved me


End file.
